We'll Figure It Out (pt 1)
by Miss Jacki
Summary: After recent events, Sam is having trouble sleeping. Dean tries to get Sam to open up about his problems and helps him relax. (set in 2nd half of S12)


Dean's eyes burn after what felt like 24 hours straight of reading articles on the internet about crazy events that might be in their wheelhouse. Nothing particularly jumped off the screen to him, so he took the last 2 swallows from his beer and decided to call it a night. Sam had gone to bed hours ago. A little earlier than normal, but he had been looking more tired than usual, and it's probably just caught up to him.

As he approached his bedroom door, Dean paused and listened to voices coming from Sam's room. It sounded like the TV, but Sam doesn't usually fall asleep with the TV on, so he decides to check on his brother.

"It's open." Sam says as he hears Dean's signature "shave and a haircut" knock on his door. Dean opens the door to find Sam watching TV in the dark, sitting up on his bed, in his T-shirt and lounge pants, sipping from a tumbler of whiskey, also not normal Sam behavior. Dean is sure something is out of whack.

"Hey, you okay?" Dean asks as he gives Sam a once over look to see if there is anything visibly wrong.

"Yeah," Sam says with a half smile, "just can't sleep. Trying to take the edge off," as he gestures with the tumbler. Dean glances over at the whiskey bottle on the night stand. Still 3/4 of the way full. Sam could probably still drive if he had to at this point, so Dean lets himself relax a little...his little brother isn't sitting in the dark, brooding and getting drunk.

"Whatcha watching?" Dean takes a swig from the bottle himself.

Sam chuckles. "Believe it or not, a documentary about Hitler. How conspiracy theorists don't believe he died in 1945,"

Dean grins with pride."Well, we know he didn't. He died in 2016, from a bullet to the head, fired by yours truly." They both smile and clink a glass to bottle and take another swig.

"Want some company?" Dean asks, and Sam slides over to make room on the bed for him. Dean takes a seat, puts his feet up, and pours 2 more fingers of whiskey into Sam's glass, takes another swig from the bottle himself and sets it down on the nightstand.

Sam never admits it, but he likes when Dean is this close to him. If it was anyone else coming into his personal space like this, he would subtly move away a bit, but this was his big brother. He knows, for whatever reason, Dean likes to be touching him, or at least close enough to touch him if he needs to.

Dean isn't good with words, but he always speaks volumes with touch. Sam is somewhat the opposite. He doesn't need to be physical, he much prefers talking or listening to someone else talk, but for Dean, he happily accommodates him and allows him to be as close as he needs to be.

The brothers share several silent minutes, staring at the TV, absently sipping whiskey. Dean rests his right hand on Sam's thigh. Sam is highly aware of it but isn't sure if Dean realizes he has done so. Sometimes Dean would touch him in ways that you never see one brother touch another, but do it with such ease that Sam would try to brush it off as just a "Dean thing" even though it would always make his stomach leap a little.

Sam had lost all interest in whatever was on TV and focused on how Dean was touching him. There was no space between them, and though there was a good foot of bed left on either side, neither made any effort to separate. They were even propped up on the same pillow.

Dean absently thumbed the fabric of Sam's pants. Sam had to wonder what this was doing for his brother. Was he even conscious of it? He didn't plan on asking because it would surely make him stop, and Sam wanted to stay absorbed in this feeling.

Dean broke the silence by picking up the whiskey bottle again and offering more to Sam. Sam declined by showing he still had plenty in his glass, and Dean took another long swig and settled back in next to Sam. He looked at his face for a moment, trying to read him.

Sam looked content, but still had traces of melancholy in the lines of his forehead and cheeks. His eyes blinked slowly, as though he was in deep thought about so many things he kept hidden. Dean was sure he didn't know half of what goes on in that huge brain of Sam's. Experiences he never speaks of past vague comments, and hints about their severity.

Dean knew Sam kept things from him since they were little kids. It used to hurt him, thinking Sam didn't trust him, but as they aged, and became closer, Dean knew it had nothing to do with trust, but with Sam not wanting to make these things really real. As if not speaking certain words, or describing certain events, would make them disappear.

Dean thought back to a time when Sam was 12, and Dad had been missing for a week. The first time they hadn't heard from him for more than 3 days. Normally, if Dad knew he would be gone for more than a week, he would send the boys to Bobby's or rent them a motel in a safe town and be back before they overstayed the rent.

However, this time, Dad didn't come back or call and when the motel managers came asking for more money, the boys had to get resourceful. They gave the manager most of what was left of the food money to pay for 2 more days, then the boys set out trash picking to find anything they could sell to a thrift store or pawn shop.

Sam would be fine during the day, while they hunted for sellable items, but at night he would cry for hours. Trying to be quiet so Dean wouldn't hear. It never worked. Dean always heard him, and though usually, he would let him have his space, some nights it was too much to bare and Dean would lay down beside him. "It's Ok Sammy, Dad will call soon. I promise"

Then came that day when Summer Vacation was 5 days over and the boys hadn't been enrolled in school when Sam had a bit of a meltdown.

"Dean! What do we do?! School has already started and Dad isn't here to enroll us!"

Dean tried to joke to get Sam to calm down "You have got to be the only 12-year-old in the country that doesn't want summer vacation to last longer!"

But Sam was always too smart for his age and knew about how things worked in the real world. "Dean, if we don't go to school, the motel managers are going to see us here and report us to Child Services!"

Dean countered "So? We'll get dressed in the morning and leave like we're going to school, and just hang out at the park or the mall or something."

Sam threw his hands up in frustration, tears streaming down his face. "Dammit, Dean! If the Cops see us walking around during school hours, they will take us to Child Services and we'll be put in Foster Care! We'll be separated!"

Dean knew Sam wasn't wrong, but he had to think of something before the kid had a real nervous breakdown. "Alright, I'll call Uncle Bobby and see if he can come get us. We can stay there for years in case Dad is dead."

No sooner had Dean said it, then Sam flew across the room and pushed him "DON'T SAY IT, DEAN! DON'T YOU EVER SAY IT!"

Dean catches himself and gets a firm grip on Sam "Shit Sammy, what's going on with you?" Sam broke down in tears "If you never say it, then it won't be true!"

Dean pulled his little brother in and wrapped his arms around him. "Okay Sammy, Dad's fine, he'll be back soon. Until then, we'll figure it out, we always do."

Then just as if their father had felt their fear, he walked through the motel door. Bandaged and bruised with a broken leg, but welcomed both his sons into his arms. "I'm sorry boys, I'm so sorry."

Sam isn't generally superstitious, but he has a few quirks, this happened to be one. Something about not speaking the words about any fear. emotion, or trauma, made them easier to deal with. Speaking the words means someone else will hear, and if they hear, they'll know, and then he won't be able to convince himself it's not true.

In fact, when other people, even Dean, had called him a "freak", he never really felt like he was until he called himself a freak, then it became real. So that was his therapy of choice. Bury it, don't speak of it, and it's not real.

The Hitler documentary had finished, with sadly, no mention of how Sam and Dean stopped The Thule Society, and Hitler himself, and had moved on to a documentary on Prohibition.

Sam was 3 glasses of whiskey into a warm mellow buzz. Still not drunk, but looser. If Dean pressed any issue, he was sure he could get Sam to spill, but he didn't want to pressure him, he wanted him to open up if he wanted to.

"You feeling okay Sammy?" Dean nudged him with his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm just... I don't know... maybe it's all just weighing me down now." Sam sat forward, bending his knees up and leaning arms on them. "We've had one hit after another. BIG hits, first me being tortured and uh... the whole deal with Toni Bevel, to Mom being back and leaving, then our asses ending up in little Gitmo, and now this deal with Lucifer and his love child? Sometimes I can't get my brain to shut down so I can rest."

"How long has it been since you've slept?" Dean asked with concern, he knew after seeing Sam go 5 days without sleep a few years back, that insomnia was stage 4 of an emotional breakdown.

"I did sleep yesterday, for a few hours," Sam said, rubbing his face. "That's been the norm since prison. I sleep 3, maybe 4 hours a night if I get there. But sometimes, like tonight, I just can't get there."

Dean stared at the back of Sam's head. resisting the urge to stroke his hair. It looked soft, and a little messy, making Dean want to smooth it out. He would never admit it, but he loved that Sam kept it long. He gives Sam's hair one supportive stroke "Don't worry about it Sam. we'll figure it out, we always do."

Dean wanted to help Sam sleep but didn't know how. He would offer him a sleeping pill from his own stash, but Sam wasn't a fan of sedatives other than alcohol, because he could control the sedation level of the alcohol himself, and since he had a few drinks in him, Dean thought it might not be safe anyway. So, Plan B. "Hey Sammy, when was the last time I gave you a massage?"

"A massage?" Sam popped his head up startled by the question.

"Yeah, a massage. I used to give them to you after almost every hunt, then for some reason, you stopped asking." Dean raised an eyebrow as if to say "Yeah, I did notice."

Sam sat straight up on the bed, trying to think. "Um I don't know, I think maybe 4 or 5 years since I had insomnia before?" It was. It had been just after Sam got a face full of Hell memories, that he avoided being touched most of the time, but Dean insisted, once he got Sam out of the mental ward and his head was feeling better. He wanted to make sure he would finally get a good night sleep, so he rubbed Sam's back, neck, and shoulders until he was snoring.

"Do you want one? I think it will help you feel better,"Dean asked before proceeding.

"Uh yeah, sure? I think I have massage oil in the medicine cabinet actually," Sam tried not to smile or look overly eager, but it wasn't really working. Sometimes he would want to ask Dean for a massage, but it had been so long, and so much has happened, he was afraid they'd passed that level of closeness, and Dean would reject him. He knew deep down it wasn't true but was still afraid to risk it.

Dean picked a bottle out of the medicine cabinet, red with a black leaf stenciled on it. "All Natural Scented Massage Oil" Dean read from the bottle. He opened the cap and sniffed it. Gave a look of approval to the scent. It smelled like vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. He couldn't help but wonder what it tasted like. He stuffed that thought away for another time. "Self-heating?" he read from the bottle "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam smiled, a little embarrassed but answered anyway. "It means it heats up when you touch it or put..." Sam stopped abruptly, not wanting to finish the sentence.

"Orrrrr what Sammy?" Dean grinned.

Sam let out a defeated sigh "Or if you put your mouth on it."

Sam's crooked grin, and the way he scratched his head let Dean know he was a little embarrassed.

"Wow, Sam gotta say I'm pretty impressed. But wait! You can put your mouth on...nevermind."

Sam laughed "You're an idiot."

Dean relented with a follow through, he wanted to be able to get Sam relaxed into sleep. "Okay, weirdness over. Lay on your stomach, let's do this."

Sam took his gentle orders and took his shirt off before he laid down. He brought the pillow down to the foot of the bed with him, and crunched it in his arms and rested his chin on it. He felt Dean squirt a generous amount of oil between his shoulder blades and down his back to just above the waistband of his pants. It was a little bit cold, but that wasn't what made the chill run up his spine.

As soon as Dean put his hands on the middle of his back, Sam felt the oil getting warm beneath them. Automatically, Sam felt relief. Like laying back in a hot tub. He closed his eyes and let the feeling of his brother's hands spreading the oil around his back, pull him into a warm place he hadn't felt in years. Before things got so crazy and weighed so heavily on their shoulders.

He thought to himself how he has never really given Dean a massage. He has rubbed out his shoulder before, or his bum knee, but never did this. This felt so awesome, that he felt like he should share the experience. Tomorrow maybe, or the next day, just not too soon after this, then it would just be weird.

Sam stared up at the TV, not really paying attention, but a commercial came on with a little boy complaining of a sore throat and his dad offering this children's sore throat medicine, and Sam remembered when he was 7 and had strep throat. How raw and sore it was but the medicine the Doctor gave him smelled and looked horrible, and he refused to take it.

Dad got frustrated with him. "Sammy, you have to take it or you're not going to get better and you'll end up in the Hospital, and you know we don't have time for that!"

Sam still refused, and Dad pushed the medicine bottle and spoon at Dean. "Here! Maybe you can get through to him," and stomped out of the room.

Dean sat down on the bed next to his sick little brother. "C'mon Sammy, let's get you better. Here, I'll take some first and tell you if it tastes like ass okay?"

Dean poured himself a spoon full of this thick pink swill and swallowed the whole thing in one shot. He grimaced and gave an exaggerated gag, which made Sam laugh. "Now you do it, and if you swallow it without making a face, it means you're stronger than me. You ready?"

Sam nodded and took down the whole spoonful. It did indeed taste like ass, but Sam fought back a gag put all his strength into not making a face. Dean ruffled his hair in pride. "You're a bigger, stronger man than me, Sammy," he said. Almost like prophecy.

Dean pressed firmly into the muscles in Sam's back. Admiring, and almost envying the definition of them. Sam was still muscular, and healthy, but that didn't stop Dean from worrying about the weight he had dropped over the past few years. He was watching him though. He was definitely eating, real food, not just rabbit food, and still enjoyed cheeseburgers and pizza more than a few times a month.

Maybe it was just because he runs regularly now. Before, Sam would work out, but running wasn't part of his routine until after he had gotten his soul back. Sam used to run a lot more on the job when he had no soul, maybe that's something that stayed with him from the transition, the urge to run. Whatever it was, the muscle was still firm and defined, just more lean than bulky. 7 years ago, Sam would definitely beat him at arm wrestling, but Dean wasn't so sure now.

Sam felt like he could fall asleep now, with very little effort, but it was so rare to feel this comfort and peace, that he wanted to savor it for as long as he could. His muscles were loosening up right along with his mind. He could sense every word Dean was saying with his hands, by the way, they moved. They never said "I love you" to each other in words, but it was always known by their actions.

Sam could hear those words coming from Dean's hands right now, and he let himself be dragged down into it. Their actions of love for each other had gone from the simple things, like cooking each other a nice meal, to soul selling, and releasing The Darkness to save each other. What more could they possibly do to convey this message further?

Sam let his mind dip momentarily into the secret world he's wanted to take Dean for years. The world where it didn't matter that they're brothers, but only that they were each other's very heart and soul. Two sides of the same coin, and could express this bond any way they saw fit. For a moment, Sam imagined laying naked beside Dean. Flesh to flesh, with no walls and no rules. Wrapping each other in their arms, legs, and lips, until they were truly one single unit. It wasn't about sex really, it was about completion.

Dean squeezed some more oil on Sam's shoulders, and Sam immediately responded by arching his back and rocking his hips a little bit. Dean liked this... a lot. He felt a great satisfaction in being able to melt Sam under his hands.

He slid his hands up to Sam's neck and gently moved his hair over to the side so he could press his thumbs into his nape. Sam let out a low moan and buried his face into the pillow as if to stifle it. "Does that feel good Sammy?" Dean said, knowing the answer already. He could read Sam like a braille book by the goosebumps raised on his skin. Sam didn't answer, he didn't need to.

Dean stayed in the zone. Kneading his brother's neck and shoulders until the tightness melted away. It was working, Sam was relaxed and would start talking soon. "Still with me Sammy?" Dean broke the silence.

Sam drew a long breath and assured Dean he was still awake and nodded "Yeah."

"Dean? Can I asked you something?"

"Yeah, sure. Ask anything." Dean could tell Sam was in a thoughtful place by the tone of his voice.

"Do you still regret being alive?" Sam asked, turning his head to the side so he could see Dean's face. Dean didn't expect this kind of question, and Sam could see he was trying to wrap his head around it.

"Seriously. When the faith healer healed you, and then Dad sold his soul, you kept saying you should have stayed dead. Do you still feel that way?"

Dean hadn't given it much thought for a long time. In fact, every morning that he woke up on the cold side of a funeral pyre, and Sam was right there with him, was a good day for him. But it brought up a question for him as well. "No Sam, I don't regret it. Do I wish it went down differently? That Dad hadn't died in my place?"

"Yes... but I'm happy to be I'm even more happy you still are too." Dean approached his question, with his hands still on Sam's back. No longer rubbing, just touching. "How about you Sammy? Do you still hate me for the whole Gadreel thing?"

Sam propped himself up on one arm and looked at Dean straight in the eyes. "I have never, and will NEVER hate you, no matter what you've done. Even if you stayed full on, foaming at the mouth Demon. You're my brother and I lo... " Sam stopped himself from saying those words. This wasn't the right time."

"I've forgiven you. I have. I no longer wish I was dead, and I'm grateful for every time you've saved me because I've gotten to save your ass just as much. My problem was always that possession is the worst thing ever for me, and you didn't allow me to make that choice."

Dean rubbed his face in frustration. He knew it would come up again someday, but they had been enjoying this time so much. Why did it have to be now? _"Because you asked him, stupid!"_ Dean thought and automatically regretted it. "Sam, I am never going to say I'm sorry for saving your life ever!"

"I know, and I'm not asking you to...I just want to know, to trust, that you won't ever do that to me again." Sam kept his gaze on Dean's face. He could see the pain in his jaw clenching.

Dean took a deep breath. "I am sorry Sam, I'm truly truly TRULY sorry I made that judgment call without your okay, and I won't promise I won't do everything completely in my power to keep you alive if the situation arises again. But, I will promise you, I'll do everything I can to get your consent."

Dean lowered his head, and Sam reached up and rubbed his arm. "Good. If it's possible, you'll figure it out. But what if you can't?"

Dean turned and started rubbing Sam's back again. " If I can't, I'll die right along side of you.

Both brothers were long past sleepy. The sun was probably coming up by now, but the lack of bedroom windows kept the room dimly lit by only the TV. Sam still didn't feel like sleeping, and if Dean did, he wasn't telling.

The massage had turned into light stroking of Sam's back, while Dean rested his body alongside him, propped up on one arm. Dean's mind was quiet, just enjoying the opportunity to be this close to Sam for so long, Touching him without any reason to stop. Sam was obviously okay with it. Maybe now he would tell Dean what was really making him sleepless.

"Sammy, tell me the truth. What's keeping you from sleeping?"

Sam reached for his tumbler that he hadn't touched for 2 hours, but if he was going to talk, he needed a lubricant. He swallowed back the remainder of the glass and looked back up at the TV. He couldn't get it all out if he had to look Dean in the face, but maybe it was time to accept what was real and deal with it.

"It seems surreal to think I can say this and be perfectly literal." Sam started with a chuckle, that was sprinkled with a little disbelief, with a side of sadness. "Dean, you know I've been tortured, by people, demons, witches, ghouls, ghosts, and even Lucifer himself. There is literally, no torture I haven't endured."

Dean knew this to be true. He himself had been tortured in Hell and even became a torturer, but he knew Sam endured more. It broke his heart to consider the things he knew happened in Hell, happened to his little brother. Even now, while he can see Sam, hear him, feel him, and touch him, he knew part of him never came back.

Nothing Dean could define really, but there was a spark missing. The something in Sam that used to allow him to see the world as a giant Christmas present just waiting to be opened. Sam was still hopeful and intrigued by the world around him, but he was no longer excited to unwrap the package. Dean swallowed a lump in his throat, and continued rubbing Sam's back with the palm of his right hand, and listened.

"I thought there was nothing anyone could do to me anymore, that I couldn't recover from in a day or two, but the experience with Toni Bevel really kicked my ass, Dean." Sam kept his eyes on the TV but Dean could hear the cracking in his voice.

"It's okay Sammy, we don't have to do this now. Tonight, I just want you to feel better."

"I can do this Dean. I need to." Sam rubbed his face and cleared his throat. "Toni did her best to break me. I've told you most of it already. She shot me, burnt my foot, kept me in a cold shower for hours. The works, but then she did something I've never experienced really. She put a mind control spell on me. It didn't only make me hallucinate, it controlled everything I was thinking."

Dean looked at Sam, confused. He's been possessed several times, and each time his mind and actions were controlled.

"I don't get it. What do you mean? You've been under another's control before."

"Not like this," Sam continued, "She made me dream that we were having sex. Only it didn't feel like a dream at all, it felt as real as you and me laying here right now."

"But it_ was_ a dream right Sammy?" Dean was clearly having a hard time understanding what he was hearing.

"Yeah, it was a dream, but it didn't feel like it was." Sam sighed, trying to find the words that would make this make any sense at all. "I mean, this spell made me think I wanted to have sex with her, and I can tell you honestly, I wanted to do a thousand different things to her, but none of them were sexual. I thought you were dead, and I didn't even care."

"I've never been under the control of anyone or anything, including Lucifer, that changed how I actually thought. Like, what else could she have done, or can she do to me? I think part of what has been bothering me, is being afraid that she still has power over my mind. Or, that she could regain it at some point. And I could really hurt someone. Maybe even you." Sam wiped a tear that escaped his right eye, and Dean gripped his shoulder firmly, to remind him he was safe.

"Well Sammy, that's nothing I want you to worry about. We'll have Cas come check you out and make sure you have no spells stowing away in your melon or anywhere else. And then we'll go through the lore books to see if there's any way we can prevent her from getting her claws in again." Dean stroked Sam's hair "And then we'll hunt the bitch down and stab her in the brain. Okay?"

Sam turned and looked at Dean and smiled. "Yeah, I like that plan."

Sam already felt lighter, cleaner. It was good to confront the issue and put a plan into action. He laid his chin back on his arms, and let Dean continue rubbing his back. Dean could tell Sam felt better, his muscles weren't nearly as knotted as they were an hour ago, but he wasn't convinced he got the whole story.

"What else is there Sam? Anything you want to tell me?" Dean asked, trying not to sound accusing or too pushy. He was happy with where Sam was right now. Slowly unraveling beneath his fingers, He can't think of a time in recent memory where Sam seemed this relaxed. It was good to know it was still possible.

Sam thought for a moment because he wasn't completely sure what else was wrong. He had already told Dean what happened, and the fears left behind, and now they have a plan of action, but one thing still kept coming to the front of his mind.

"I guess that I just don't like that being my last sexual experience. Even though it wasn't real, it felt like it, and I don't like that it stays in my mind that way."

"Do you mean last like most recent, or last as in final sexual experience?" Dean asked with obvious alarm.

"Both I guess," Sam answered. A bit puzzled himself at his own realization.

"Why do you think you might not have sex again?" Dean couldn't even imagine having such a thought himself. Would he ever think of any sexual encounter as his last? God, he hoped not.

"Well, I've pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I probably won't ever settle down with a woman, and I'd never bring someone into the life that isn't already in it, and if she was already in it, then I wouldn't want us to worry twice as much as before. So yeah, it's probably my last." Sam said with conviction.

"That's bullshit Sam! You don't need the white picket fence with a wife and 2.5 children to have sex, we can find you a nice girl on a dating app, or Piper, maybe we can look up Piper again and you guys could be, you know, like friends with benefits or something."

Dean's heart broke a little thinking of Sam never being touched or cared for in that way. Dean thought any woman in the world would be honored to be his girl. Hell, half the guys in the world too if he was into that. It was painful to hear him giving up so easily.

Sam was a little shocked at the look on Dean's face. It never occurred to him that Dean ever gave it any thought. However Sam didn't mind the idea of never having a sexual relationship again, he only minded having mostly bad ones in his memories.

"Dean, you know I'm not really into one nighters. I've had more meaningless sex then I've had good sex, and I'm just better off without it. "

Sam knew that wasn't completely true. He would miss it, a man has needs after all, but he wouldn't miss the heartache. Not only with the fact that it wouldn't be permanent, but the fact that he knew deep down, no romantic love could ever compare to the love he had for his brother. He had thought he could make a life with Jess or Amelia once, but in both cases, as soon as Dean was back in his life, he knew he would rather spend his life with him, than anyone else.

He never told Dean that, it sounded too pathetic, and maybe even wrong, but it was true. He couldn't admit it to Dean, even though he thought Dean might feel the same way since Dean never tried to settle down except for when he thought Sam was dead.

Sam remembered when he was soulless, that Dean had gotten pissed at Bobby for not telling him Sam was still alive. Bobby had said he kept quiet because for once Dean had what he wanted, a good woman, a kid and a normal life, but Dean responded with "What I wanted was my brother, ALIVE!"

It made no sense to Sam at that moment, but he understood now._ "We belong to each other and that's all"._ He thought and closed his eyes.

Sam was quiet. Dean felt better about his brother's state of mind but kept mulling over his words over the past several hours. Still fixated on Sam's back, still shiny and slick from the oil. Dean started tracing patterns on Sam's skin with his finger. Drawing little symbols, barely noticeable across his shoulders and down his spine. He thought Sam might be asleep until he spoke.

"What are you drawing?" Sam said with a quiet curiosity in his voice.

"Warding sigils" Dean answered without stopping in his work

"For what?"

"I want to keep every living breathing, undead, creeping, crawling, evil piece of shit away from you forever Sammy."

A fresh set of goosebumps rose over Sam's skin. Dean smiled in satisfaction once again.

Sam raised himself up on his elbows to see Dean's face. Dean was still settled on his left arm while drawing on Sam's back. Sam loved how he looked right now. His hair a little messy, smile lines in deep creases around his eyes.

"You really do want that, don't you? To keep anything that can hurt me away from me."

"Well, not everything maybe. I mean, I can still kick your ass, and I'm not going anywhere." Dean's green eyes nearly glowed in the dim light of the TV. Sam was lost in them.

Laws of the Universe be damned! He never felt more loved in his life than he did right now. He freed an arm from beneath the pillow and wrapped it around Dean's back. Dean pressed his hand flat against Sam's back and pulled himself in closer. They breathed in each other's air for just a moment before letting their lips touch, in a soft, cautious kiss.

Dean stroked Sam's hair as he pulled away. As if promising the discussion wasn't over. Sam's eyes were opened wide and dark with arousal, tainted by a little fear that shown across his brow. There had been only one other time they accidentally kissed, and that was a decade or so ago, after too much beer and not enough weed at the Ozzy show, when they knew they couldn't drive and ended up sleeping in the Impala in the stadium parking lot.

Neither remembered how it happened, and neither had spoken of it since. Sam recalled the event, and the awkwardness that surrounded the both of them in the following days, and silently prayed that wasn't about to happen again.

Dean ran his thumb along Sam's jawline, meeting his eyes. "Sammy," Dean spoke in nearly a whisper "I'll give you anything you want, you know that. But you have to tell me if this is what you want."

Sam took a moment to process what he just heard, Dean was already on board, he just needed Sam's consent on the matter. "It's okay Dean, I want this." and he smiled nervously. He could feel Dean trembling in time with his own.

Dean mimicked Sam's smile. He wanted to take a moment to enjoy the want in his brother's eyes before taking things to a level they've never been before.

"If we cross this line, Sammy, you have to promise me, no matter what shit this universe throws at us, that you won't take it back. You won't try to leave me again or pretend it never happened. I don't think I could handle it."

Dean was serious. He loved Sam, in every way imaginable. He was always willing to keep most of that to himself, but not anymore, not if they were going to break their own unspoken rule.

Sam worried about the same. How would Dean be tomorrow? Would they live and hunt in this painfully awkward silence for weeks, or months, before they just went back to the same old grind?

Sam wanted to give Dean everything, and take everything he had. And build on it. He wasn't afraid to cross the line with his brother, honestly, of all the lines they've crossed for each other, this one was the least terrifying.

"I promise Dean, I won't leave you. You'll never be able to get rid of me."

The smile on Sam's face was so full of light and dimples, that Dean couldn't wait to taste it. He kissed Sam hard and pulled him in so close that it hurt a little as Sam's chest heaved against his own while trying to catch his breath. Their tongues fighting for dominance in each other's mouths. There was no turning back now.

Sam could barely breathe, and his heart was beating out of his chest. He could hear the thuds becoming more rapid in his ears, and a wave of dizziness threatened to make him pass out. This wasn't the first time he's had a panic attack, but it was indeed the worst time to have one.

"_Breathe through your nose Sam. It's okay, this is Dean, he won't hurt you, you're safe, just breathe." _Sam told himself. "_Count to 20, try to remember the names of the High Schools you attended."_ He tried to think of the names, but it was too hard to concentrate on anything other than staying conscious.

"Dean!" Sam uttered sharply, chest heaving but not releasing his brother from the death grip he had on his shoulder blades. He buried his face into the crook of Dean's neck. "Stop, please slow down. Let… let me catch my breath."

Dean stopped immediately and pulled back. He held Sam's face in his hand to assess what was happening.

"You okay Sammy? I'll stop, we don't have to do this if you don't want to. Talk to me"

Sam flopped onto his back, squeezed his eyes shut and put his hand in his hair, nearly hyperventilating. He took a couple long deep breaths before trying to speak. Sweating and shivering at the same time "_God my body is so weird_" he thought to himself and laughed a little at the idea of how stupid he must look right now.

"It's okay, I'm okay…. I… I'm just … huh.. I'm just really nervous. Just slow down and let me breathe for a bit. It'll pass." And he knew it would. Sometimes when he had a panic attack before, he would go to his "happy place" in his mind to help calm him down.

That "happy place" however, was the image of him and his brother entwined in a naked embrace. And now that they were nearly in that situation, Sam was having a little trouble finding somewhere to redirect his anxiety.

Dean has always been sensitive to Sam's anxiety, it wasn't like he couldn't relate, but sometimes he would joke about it, just to get Sam to smile, Sam didn't like to be fussed over or to draw attention to himself, so Dean would try to lighten the mood. However this was an odd situation for them both, Dean pressed a hand on Sam's chest, he could feel it cold a damp with sweat and his heart pounding beneath it.

"Let me get you some water." Dean got off the bed and rinsed Sam's glass in the sink and brought him some water. "Here, drink up" Sam swallowed it all in 2 gulps and laid back down, still breathing hard but more steady. Dean returned to his spot beside his brother, noticing the color returning to his cheeks.

"It's passing," Sam said. "Thanks, man… I'm glad you're here"

"What was that about Sam? That was kinda scary." Dean spoke with an air of concern in his voice.

"It was nothing really, just got freaked out for a moment, but I'm alright now."

Dean was visibly curious as to what might have freaked Sam out."Was it something I did? I told you we can take this as slow or as fast as you want."

Sam felt sad for Dean, he could see he was being honest and was worried he did something wrong, but Sam reassured him. "No Dean, you didn't do anything wrong, This is just new to me you know? This is a first, not only with you but with any guy. I've never even kissed a guy before."

"Well I know that Sammy and neither have I, but I've been around many blocks with many women, and I just figure how much different can you be?"

Sam kicked Dean sharply in the shin and Dean laughed "OW Sammy! I was only kidding, I just want you to laugh is all. I'm sorry." he smiled and kissed Sam's head. "See? You're feeling better aren't you?"

"A little… yeah." Sam swallowed hard. Still visibly nervous, but Dean wanted to take every trace of anxiety away from his brother and erase it forever, but he could tell Sam's brain was still working overtime.

"What if I disappoint you, Dean?" Sam met Dean's eyes again.

"Disappoint me? How could you disappoint me? What, am I gonna get offended if you fall in love with me, or want to move in with me? 'Cause, to be honest, Sammy, that ship has sailed."

"No." Sam rolled his eyes "you don't get it. " Sam propped himself up on his elbow and cupped Dean's face with his hand. "I'm not … I'm not a woman. I don't know how to do some… things. And I don't know which roles we're supposed to be playing in this."

Dean took Sam's hand and gently laid him back down. He ran his hand up Sam's long forearm, and over his bicep. Sam's eyes watching him, as he let his fingers trace the line of his clavicle. The hair on Sam's chest was always thicker than his own, and always made Dean feel a little less masculine when their shirts were off, but now as he felt its softness under his fingers and how they stood on end a little bit as he traced a line down to Sam's navel. If there had ever been any doubt, that Sam is not a woman, it was definitely squelched.

Sam's abs were tight and defined, and trembled under Dean's hands as he stroked over the ridges. Looking down, Dean could see the huge bulge in Sam's pants threatening to pop out of his waistband, and he teased his fingers just above and let his hand rest on Sam's hip.

"Sammy," Dean said as he gripped Sam's hip and leaned himself into him. "I am fully aware that you're not a woman. And to be completely honest with you…" He let his eyes wander down the length of Sam's long body "looking at you right now? You're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on."

Sam's breathing labored again, but not with anxiety this time, but excitement. He's never heard words like that come out of anyone's mouth directed at him in his life. He was always called "cute" and on occasions "attractive" but usually "big' "tall" or "nerdy". Does Dean really think he's beautiful? He could feel his body heat rise from his feet to his head, and it was getting hard to keep his body still.

Dean grinned as Sam fidgeted alongside him. "Tell you what. We don't need to figure out any roles between us." He sat up only long enough to take his shirt off, and lay back down, lying one leg across Sam's. "How about we just do what feels good, and go from there?" Sam nodded in agreement.

Dean leaned down and gave Sam a quick teasing kiss on the lips, and moved his mouth over to whisper in his ear "I want to peel your pajama pants off and eat you like a banana"

Sam didn't even try to stifle his laugh "Seriously? Is that your best line?"

"Hm didn't work?" Dean faked a perplexed look.

"Heh, no, not even a little." Sam chuckled in response.

Dean looked around and found the bottle of massage oil and squirted a generous amount on Sam's stomach. "Guess I'll try something else."

Dean smoothed the oil over Sam's stomach, relishing in the way it expanded and contracted with his breathing. He moved his hand along Sam's ribs and down his back pulling his bottom half in closer to his own and nudged his legs apart with his knee. Only 2 thin layers of fabric separated their growing erections.

Sam was fully on board with the proceedings and followed suit with a handful of oil for himself. He spread it with his huge hands down Dean's back and grinned happily so see someone else in the room had goosebumps as well. He kissed Dean hard. Nipping at his lower lip while fighting the urge to devour him.

Kissing his chin and up his jawline, He could feel his own hard dick throbbing and threatening to explode before either of them were naked. He pressed himself into Dean's hip and became aware quickly that Dean was not far behind, if at all. He hoped Dean would get the hint to move this along before he embarrassed himself.

Dean picked up on what Sam's body was telling him and slipped a hand into his pants and squeezed the cheek of Sam's tight ass. He held on for just a moment before letting his fingertips graze the back of Sam's thigh. And there it was. A low agonizing moan escaped Sam's throat, and Dean knew he found a sweet spot he would file away and use over and over again forever. Sam bucked his hips so hard, Dean knew he was close.

Sam's hands were shaking. He tried to focus on keeping them steady so Dean didn't think he won this little chicken fight. He slid his oil slicked hand into Dean's pants to get a handful of his tight round ass too, and as much as he liked doing so, he decided these pants have to go and took the initiative to push Dean's pants down far enough that Dean could kick them off the rest of the way.

Dean did so and returned the favor to Sam. Both took a moment to look at each other. They had seen each other naked many times but never aroused, and never took a moment to enjoy the whole package. Both were very well endowed. Sam was a bit longer, but Dean was thicker. Both were impressed, and neither were embarrassed at the moment.

Dean pulled Sam in as close as he could for the first hug they've ever had skin to skin, With no barriers. Sam clung to him as if he'd be sucked away into a void if he ever let go. The secret wish Sam had always hoped for, was happening right now and it was almost too much to bear.

He closed his eyes tight, trying to take a mental picture of this entire moment. The feel, the sounds, the smells… everything in the moment was more than he ever imagined. He fought back the urge to cry for the 3rd time today.

Sam was warm. Dean could feel his heartbeat against his own and he swore they were in perfect rhythm. But why wouldn't they be? He always knew they shared the same heart and soul, and now they were even sharing the same body.

He kissed Sam's shoulders and up his neck. He could feel Sam's stubble scratching his cheek, also a very new feeling. He could feel Sam squirming and causing their erections to rub against each other. Dean put his left hand into Sam's hair, that was now a little damp, and ran his right hand down to the small of his back that was now collecting beads of sweat mixing in with the oil.

Sam was digging his fingers into his back and biting his shoulder. Somewhat painfully too, so he tugged Sam's head back by his hair, just far enough for him to kiss him again. Dean's new favorite thing. Kissing Sam. And he's going to do it as often as he can.

Sam was nearing the point of no return, and trying his hardest to think of anything else besides the proverbial dam break that was coming too soon if he didn't get a grip _"haha funny brain you're so not helping." _Sam thought to himself. What was arousing him most was how aroused Dean was.

This was just Sammy, his annoying little brother who managed to break the world as often as he saved it, and Dean was always there to help pick up the pieces. He didn't know if he deserved this much pleasure, but he was sure they deserved each other.

Dean kissed Sam deeply. No tongue wrestling now, this was just love. And not just love it was more. It was something the English language hadn't developed a word for. Maybe because no one had ever experienced it. It was truly magic, and not the stale, half-assed magic they had seen and performed in their twisted, torn up lives, but …. Something.

Sam was overheating and dripping sweat down his face. Dean didn't care. It even tasted good. It tasted like victory. Sam's dick was hard enough to cut diamonds, and Dean wanted to tease just a little longer until he heard "Dean… please" come from his brother in a low breathy voice saturated in desperation.

He could almost see the words hanging in the air, and dripping all over him. Dean's NEW new favorite thing. He collected some oil off Sam's back and gently took Sam's cock in his hand. "Ok, Sammy? Is this good?"

"God yes… that's good." Sam whispers as he takes Dean in hand as well. Stroking each other, and trying to find a good uniform rhythm was futile. Sam had a steel grip and a more rapid pace, while Dean was slower and paid more attention to the head of Sam's dick. Oddly enough, it felt perfect for both. Sam is loud. Dean never knew this. He had never been in earshot of him while he had sex with anyone else. However, they were the same grunts and groans he made while fighting. Dean thought he might now get turned on every time he was in earshot of Sam fighting.

Sam could feel the build up threaten to overflow any second. "Dean… DEAN!"

"Fuck! Sammy, you're gonna make me come if you keep doing that" And with one hard grunt like he just pushed a boulder up a hill, Sam shot the warm fluids between their stomachs and down Dean's hand, and Dean lost himself in response.

Dean thought he's never come so hard in his life and was pretty sure Sam never had. Now they pressed together panting. Half laughing and completely spent. They shared a few light kisses before Dean grabbed his t-shirt so they could clean themselves off.

"You alright Sammy?" He watched Sam's chest heave as he tried to catch his breath again

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm actually really good Dean. Thank you." Sam smiled in a way Dean had never seen and added that to the growing list of his new favorite things.

"You're welcome. You know I'm here to please so if you ever….." Dean let Sam fill in the blanks.

"Yeah, sure! I might even text you while you're on the road someday." Sam joked in response.

"Absolutely! But I'm gonna go take a leak. You get comfortable and we can pick this up when I get back."

"Yeah…. Sure." Sam said with a big yawn.

Dean knew this exploration session was done for now, and as suspected, when he got back, Sam was snoring peacefully.

Dean slid behind him under the blankets. "Goodnight Sammy." and kissed his head.


End file.
